Ten Drabbles for Arthur & Ari
by bemusedmuse
Summary: Ten shorts for Arthur and Ariadne; Each based off a song - One of those meme things.
1. Chapter 1

_Ten Drabbles / Ten Songs Meme: _

_1.) Pick a character/pairing/fandom. _

_2.) Put your music on shuffle. _

_3.) Write drabble related to the song._

_ 4.) Do ten and post!_

**Yeah, I know. I gave into the temptation and did one of these things. Shush, I was bored. And also curious. Arthur/Ariadne**

~vOvOvOvOvOv~

**The Black Keys – Lies**

He sat up in bed, looking at her, gazing at her sleeping form. She was so beautiful. And she was all his. Maybe.

At first it was wonderful, they were in love. But then times got dark. Her smiles turned crooked, and she started telling him lies.

All he wanted was her, but now there was pain. Pain worse than any bullet piercing his skin, worse than any angry mob of projections mauling him. It felt as if his heart was too heavy for him to carry. Now all he wants is too escape it.

But he knows he can't – she's ensnared him. "To hell with today."

He said it was just pressure – Extraction isn't an easy game to play. It's just a phase. She's not feeling well. She'll come around.

They had sat on a bench overlooking the Seine. She was pointing out the architecture of the buildings surrounding them. Gothic, mostly. Renaissance, here and there. He wasn't really paying attention. She was curling a finger around her dark hair, then she would bring the hand to her mouth, her scarf, down to straighten her shirt.

"Arthur," she whispered, pointing to the sky. She had apparently stopped talking some time ago, but he had been too preoccupied watching her movements to notice.

"Arthur, the moon is ours."

He looked into her eyes - looking at him, looking back at her – and he smiled.

He smiled because he loved her. He smiled because she loved him. He smiled because she was lying.

He smiled because he loved her.

**Keane – Somewhere Only We Know**

Arthur wandered across the field, feeling just so peaceful. The place was so empty. It was beautiful.

He bent down, took his wingtips off, followed by his socks. He stuffed the socks into his shoes, tied the laces together and let them swing loosely in his grip. He walked across the emptiness, knowing exactly where to go. He'd been here a thousand times.

Eventually Arthur reached a river, as he knew he would. He sat, took off his beige vest, laid it gently – folded – by his side, and he rolled up his ironed shirtsleeves - smiling all the while.

"_Even in sleep, I match. Suppose that's a good thing. Consistency, all that."_

He sat crossed-legged, eyes closed and face turned up towards the dreamt-up sun, drinking in its warmth.

His mind then began to drift, as it usually did, to _her_.

"Ariadne."

Her name fell out of his mouth unintentionally, like a sigh let out when one is very tired but must still endure the trial.

Her hair was the softest of browns, her frame tiny and intricate. Always a scarf, a bandana, some small embellishment to draw his eye.

Thinking about her made him feel both complete and without.

He sat up, rolled his pleated pants up to the knee, grabbed his shoes, and stood up, throwing his vest over his arm like a towel over a waiter's.

He walked into the river, feeling the mud squish between his toes and trying to pull him in. It wasn't very deep – just over the knee in the middle. The current ebbed and flowed, seeming to follow his heartbeat, which seemed to follow his thoughts.

Coming up the shore on the other side, Arthur continued on, knowing where everything was. Every bug, every blade of grass as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

The grasses got taller, coming to his waist. He ran his hands along the tops of the blades, reveling in the slight tickle they produced.

He came across a fallen tree. Arthur walked over to it, threw his vest across one of the outstretched limbs and dropped his shoes under the branch.

He looked out at the emptiness, the beautiful nothingness that was his paradise.

Arthur fell back against the tree, his back resting on the decimated trunk of the giant thing, sinking until he sat on the ground.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the peace until his time was spent – the lovely sedative gone - and he was to wake to mixed emotions and wanting again. Arthur's peace was interrupted by a feeling of eyes on him. His eyes snapped open, only to find Ariadne standing a few feet in front of him.

She was wearing a white shirt, grey jeans, and a red sweater – the look complete with a grey, checkered scarf resting on her chest. She just stared at him, seeming a bit embarrassed, seeming a little entranced.

Arthur waited a moment before speaking.

"How long have you been here?"

"Well, I," she stumbled over her words, obviously worried she had upset him. "I was about to leave the warehouse when I passed your desk and you were still there, um -asleep, plugged in, and I - and I got curious, I guess." Her cheeks were flooded with a lovely shade of red.

"It's okay," Arthur said, smiling that small smile. "I understand." He wished he could talk to her more. But, she was just so - just so… Just so _Ari_.

She stood there awkwardly, him staring up at her, her glancing around, still feeling uncomfortable.

"C'mere," he said, patting the earth beside him, signaling her to sit down beside him.

She did. Arthur could tell she felt more at ease when she sat down next to him. He couldn't tell however, if that was a good or bad sign.

"This place is beautiful, Arthur. Do you always come here?"

"Mostly. Sometimes I make new places, sometimes I visit old ones."

"It really is amazing." She let her head fall on his waiting shoulder. "Has anyone else ever been here?"

Arthur placed him arm around her shoulders, letting her snuggle closer to him.

"No, this is somewhere only we know."

**The 88 – At Least It Was Here**

Arthur knew he really shouldn't like this girl. I mean – it was dangerous, right? Just look at Cobb and Mal! He couldn't count the reasons he should stay away.

So he just watched. He watched her chew on her bottom lip when she was focusing on a sketch. He watched as she designed skyscrapers, cathedrals, concert halls, 5-star hotels. Arthur watched as she walked out every day, throwing her bag over her shoulder – one arm swinging free, the other clasped at the handle – wanting only to run over and grab her free hand, walk her home, make her happy.

Make her his.

"Alright, darling, c'mon. You've got to stop this staring business," Eames said one day after Ariadne had said her goodbyes – earning a snide comment from Eames and a half-hearted smile from Arthur – and gone home.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're going on about," Arthur denied, pulling the notebook he was writing on closer to his face.

"Oh, please. You fancy her - Ariadne. Why else would be staring at her all day?"

"No idea what you're talking about." Arthur's voice was steel, warning Eames to back off.

Eames never was very good at warnings. "Arthur and Ariadne, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-"

"Alright, alright! Fine, I 'fancy' her," Arthur said in a mock accent.

"I know. Well, come one then, mate. When are you going to seal the deal?"

"We'll wait and see," Arthur sighed.

"You've got to be tired of that business, darling."

Arthur said nothing, silently loathing Eames. Because he knew he was right.

"Arthur. Arty-Boy-"

"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped, tossing his notebook on the table.

"Fine. Darling, you've got to make your move. This is a dangerous business we're in. You could be dead and cold at any moment."

Arthur said nothing, absorbing the information he already knew.

"You could be tied up, beaten. Killed , even."

"I know, I know, Eames. But it's not safe for me to be with her. It's just not a possibility."

"It could be at any time, Arthur. You could miss your chance. And just like-"

Eames was cut off by the sound of the warehouse door opening.

Ariadne came into view. "Hey, guys. Forgot my sketch book."

She pondered off to her work area. Eames looked down at Arthur, placed both hands on his desk. "It could be here, Arthur."

Arthur looked over at this girl, this girl he loved. And he made up his mind.

She adjusted her bag, her free hand swinging. "I'd go for the bold approach, mate."

Arthur jumped up, threw his coat over his shoulder, grabbed his bag in the same hand and ran over to Ariadne, catching her before she got to the door.

He snatched up her had in his. And he looked down at her. She looked at him, looked at their intertwined fingers, and smiled.

Arthur couldn't count the reasons to stay.

~vOvOvOvOvOv~

**Other seven coming later… **


	2. Sim Sala Bim

**Fleet Foxes – Sim Sala Bim**

Arthur was a gentleman, there was no question of that. It was so obvious. He was also old-fashioned. An old-fashioned gentleman. Arthur.

"_And,"_ Arthur thought to himself, _"Old-fashioned gentlemen do _not_, under _any_ circumstances, dream of their co-workers." _He shook his head as his eyes spanned the world he had unconsciously created tonight. _"Ah, but she's so much more than a co-worker, Arthur," _His mind taunted him in a voice that flowed like water over ice, so soft but then sharply cracking and shooting painful, beautiful images into Arthur's keen mind.

He was on a balcony, high above what he assumed was a city – he was up so high that the clouds had enveloped the lower floors of the building. Arthur leaned against the cool railing, breathing in the morning air. The sun was rising over the ocean, sending shooting rays of purple and yellow light, bouncing off the water and blinding him. It reminded him of when the sun would leak through the high windows of the warehouse, the Parisian day seeming to conspire against him and sending slight beams of its afternoon and landing softly on her hair, catching his eye and causing him to stare. Arthur found himself imagining what it would be like to run his hand through it – feel the soft brown curls wrap invitingly around his fingers. He thought of what it would smell like if he buried his face in her hair. What would _she_ smell like? What would she _taste_-

Arthur visibly shook himself out of that particular reverie, knowing it would only cause trouble. He could hear a shower running in the background, behind the cavernous room that held the unmade bed, his tie, shoes, jacket, vest, and – curiously enough – a pale scar precariously thrown over the bedpost. He wondered why he only imagined the after.

He had gained the PASIV-induced consciousness on the balcony, the room already in disarray behind him and Ariadne already in the shower.

He knew it was Ariadne that was in the small marble-covered bathroom. He could sense her presence, could see her stereotypical red sweater and grey shoes. A smell lingered in the air, surrounding him, intoxicating him - Ariadne's smell – honeysuckle and a dash of something he couldn't describe in any other way than simply _Ari_.

Her soft voice floated to his ears, and Arthur smiled longingly, wanting nothing more than to run to the shower, shove the curtain aside and crush her to his desperate form. But he would never. She wasn't the real Ariadne, and even if she was he still wouldn't do it – he was dangerous, the job was dangerous. He wouldn't even be in this situation, not even close. Arthur would not allow it, he wouldn't even allow himself to touch her, hold her hand, _kiss_-

"You have got to stop these thoughts, Old Man," Arthur muttered to himself.

A soft noise tickled his ear, making him turn from the room back to the horizon. Arthur looked pointedly at the water, at the now-fading sunrise. It came again, this time forming a coherent word, along with a familiar voice. "Arthur."

It was Ariadne. The building shook a little underneath him and he glanced around quickly, his training coming in as a natural instinct. But the voice only grew louder. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur."

The building began to really quake, the whole earth seeming to shake beneath his unsteady feet as her voice called to him from beyond the ocean. Arthur held fast to the railing, watching as the rays of light dove and cat-cradled, forming the outlines of a face. The ocean rose with a force, reaching unknown heights as Arthur stood, calmly watching the spectacle before him. "Arthur. Arthur?" The waves curled softly around the now-known face, running down her cheeks and curling up at the ends. The water went from blue to a light brown, and Arthur was thrown from the balcony as the earth rumbled around him one last time and he fell, watching her face still forming above him as he hit the ground with a jolt, eyes snapping open and returning to reality.

Ariadne's face was extremely close to his, her hands on his shoulders - she must have been shaking him back and forth. One of her curls fell loose and brushed against his cheek. Arthur visibly shivered at the tiny touch but immediately gained back his Point Man façade, body draining of emotion.

She smiled and backed off, going to sit on the chair beside him. "You sleep like the dead, Arthur. The PASIV ran out and you were still under. It took me a good five minutes to actually wake you."

Arthur sat up in his chair, legs swinging around to come to rest on the floor, facing her. "It was a good dream."

"Ah," Ariadne said, eyes looking elsewhere, not wanting to pry. "Well, I'm off, I think. It's late but I just didn't want you to wake up alone." She blushed at her comment, seeming surprised that it had popped out. Ariadne, stood up awkwardly, the blush still lingering on her face, and went to her workstation to gather her things.

Arthur chuckled to himself as she walked away. She must have put a curse on him, bewitched him – something. Because it was not normal to be this fixated on someone. _"After Fischer, I'll tell her," _Arthur thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. _"After Inception."_


	3. This is a Song

**The Magic Numbers – This is a Song**

Arthur awoke with a start. Eyes blinking, searching for some light, he felt as if he were drowning in the darkness – in the loneliness of it all.

He sank back down into his sheets, reveling in the cool of the fabric on his hot skin. He laid, thoughts buzzing, for some time until he finally realized that he would indeed get no more sleep with the way his head was going. His thoughts seemed to be spinning in a constant, tight circle over what he assumed to be the dominant of said thoughts – Ariadne.

"_Wonder what her last name is, she never mentioned. Although, neither have I, so… She looked really nice today, a bit flustered, maybe. But only because she couldn't find her layouts. Eames had hidden them – Ass… I wonder why she always smells of honeysuckle? Perfume, probably. Does she wear perfume or is that just her? She certainly doesn't wear a lot of make-up, I like that. She's naturally beautiful, doesn't need anything else… Who was that boy she was walking with earlier? Didn't like him – he seemed sketchy. I should have told her I would walk her to her flat, and then she wouldn't need him. She would only need me... Just like today, I helped her with her paradoxes…What's her middle name? Does she even have a last name? She can always have mine-"_

Okay, Arthur cut off that thought before he could grow used to the idea. He quickly threw his legs haphazardly over the side of the bed, still covered, made to stand up - and promptly fell flat on his face.

His legs were too tangled in the sheets to actually move, causing him to fumble, flail his arms wildly for half a second, and gracefully fall over.

He groaned against the hardwood floor of his bedroom; breathe coming out hot and making a slight sheen over the panels. He decided to just lay there for a bit.

He couldn't tell her; No, he didn't _want_ to tell her. _"Coward,"_ Arthur scolded himself in his head.

He was lost in her, in Ariadne, in _his_ Ariadne. _"No, not mine." _Arthur caught all of her from the corner of his eye.

His phone buzzed at him, making Arthur literally jump out of his thoughts. He sat up, untangled himself from his sheets and peered over his shoulder, wondering who could be calling at this hour. He continued to gaze over his shoulder at the device until he seemed to realize that he should answer.

"Hello?"

"Arthur," her voice sighed over the phone, making him feel a bit light-headed.

"Ariande? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I… I just had a bad dream."

She sounded sheepish, probably realizing that she sounded childish and strange, calling this man in the middle of the night. But she had so _needed _to talk to him, to make sure he was okay…

"Oh," Arthur perked up a bit. A bad dream and she called him. He felt… _Touched._ "Do you want me to come over?" He asked tentatively.

She let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, please."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Arthur clipped, standing up and running a hand through his hair, looking for his pants.

"See you then," Ariadne said, hanging up the phone.

Arthur went to find his shirt thinking that maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought.


	4. Meds

**Placebo – Meds**

The wall was melting. "_Weeeeell, not really melting, per se," _Arthur thought. But it was definitely doing something very strange. _"Maybe, maybe dripping is a better word. Yeah, dripping. That's better. No, melting is better. She likes words that starts with the 'Mmmm' sound," _Arthur pondered to himself, staring at his apartment wall, trying to think of verbs.

He was distracted by the sound of footsteps echoing outside his door. Arthur jumped up, almost tripping over his open briefcase in his haste. He practically ran to the door, swinging it open with flair. "Ariad-" he started enthusiastically, stopping mid-word when he saw who it was: Cobb.

Arthur immediately sobered up in the intimidating man's presence. Arthur struggled to remember all that had happened to the man he reported to, but he didn't let it get to him.

Cobb had stopped in the middle of the doorway, looking expectantly at Arthur. He had just thrown open the door to him after all…

Cobb watched as Arthur straightened a little and cleared his throat.

"Cobb."

"_Uh-oh,"_ Cobb thought. He could see the look in Arthur's eyes. He'd done it again. "_He's off his meds."_

"Please, Arthur. I told you to call me Dom." Dom had a pretty good idea what Arthur he was talking to: The Point Man. Focused, intense, in control, on-top-of-things Arthur.

Arthur ignored the last statement. "So, do you have any idea what we are going to do for the final kick with Fischer?" Arthur closed the door behind him, beginning to walk slowly down the hall to the stairs with his partner. He hoped Ariadne wouldn't show up while he was gone.

"_Oh no, some poor sap's been added to the gang," _Dom thought. When Arthur was like this, which happened to be quite a lot lately, he simply played along. Secretly, he was fascinated by this world Arthur had created – where people can go into another's dreams, take things away, plant _ideas_. Just think – _Ideas!_ It was amazing to him. Dom just didn't understand why Arthur thought that Mal had – even the thought brought a sharp pang of pain to Dom's heart. Anyways, the storyline Arthur had unintentionally fabricated was incredibly deep and complicated, but Dom had figured it out over the course of a year's worth of conversations. That's when he, his wife, and their two children had moved into the beautiful old building at almost the very center of Paris.

"Well, the force of the other kicks all combined should be enough to shock us out of the sedative. And if not - if something goes wrong - the flight attendant should just be able to inject us with the counter-kick and we should wake up within minutes."

Dom had been through this scenario a handful of times. From what he gathered, a one Mr. _Saito_ had propositioned Dom with the task of inception, which is apparently even more difficult than extraction. If they succeeded, Dom would be able to return to his children.

They reached the entrance to the stairs, opening the doors – coming face-to-face with Eames, a man who rented downstairs.

"Arthur, just the man I was looking for."

"Yes, well. What do you need, Eames? Weren't you about to go under?" Arthur answered, obviously annoyed.

Eames shot a glance over to Dom, who answered his silent question with a slight nod and a sorry, pitying look in his eye.

"Yes, so I was. Thanks, mate. Almost forgot," Eames said, seeming a bit cheekier than he had been when they first encountered. He was slipping into his role. "Say, where's lovely Ariadne, mate?" Eames said with a wink. "Thought you'd have already snagged her, yeah?"

Arthur visibly stiffened. "Eames, go plug yourself in – I'm busy."

Dom stood there, arms crossed, watching the two banter easily back-and-forth.

"Oh, darling, I'm offended. But, now that we're on subject – What did you need Ariadne for, anyway?"

"I wanted to go over her paradoxes again," Arthur answered curtly.

"Oh-ho-ho!" Eames laughed boisterously, making Arthur jump and turn to glare at the brit. "Whoever said _you_ weren't afraid to dream a little bigger, darling!"

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed, a sure sign he was not amused. Cobb sent Eames a disapproving glare for egging the poor man on. Eames always did this.

Before Arthur could get a word out, Eames cut him off with a wave of the hand, "Anyhoo, I must be off. Got to go, eh," he stammered, seeming to search for the right word. "Research… Browning?" He looked at Dom, who nodded at him. Eames turned to the stairs and started to go back down, having to move aside as a small boy made his way up. Dom saw him waved to James as he made his way over to the two men.

"Hey, James. What're you doing up here?" Dom reached down and scooped him up, a warm smile on his face.

"Cobb! Where did that kid come from? The warehouse is locked!"

Dom refrained from slapping his forehead. _"Shit, he doesn't remember. Meds."_

"Uh, I don't know, but I'll check it out," Dom said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Arthur patted the back of his waistband, where he usually kept his gun. If the warehouse was unsecure, Cobol could have gotten in. Hell, anyone could've if this kid did. Coming up empty, Arthur realized that he had left beside his bed, on the table, in his apartment. _"Well, shit."_

"Hey, Uncle Arthur," a small voice brought him from his thoughts. Arthur looked down at the child in Cobb's arms, speculating where he could have come from and how in the _hell _did he know his name? _"What a sick, dirty, trick, Cobol. This is low."_

"You look funny." James giggled. "Are you sick, Uncle Arthur?" the small boy asked, sinking further into Cobb's embrace, away from the scrutiny of his so-called-Uncle's gaze. Uncle Arthur was funny sometimes. Daddy told him not to say anything. Daddy said that Uncle Arthur was just silly, and that if he said anything he would hurt Uncle Arthur's feelings. And he didn't want to do that – He loved Uncle Arthur. "Why do you wear suits all the time?" James asked, his child-mind already forgetting his first question and onto the next.

"I like penguins," Arthur said cooly, turning away. "Cobb, if you could," he said, making his way back to his flat. Arthur rounded the corner with his fast gait and wasn't seen again.

Dom followed the Point Man with his eyes as far as he could. _"Ah, well. He's a good kid."_

He looked down at James, Daddy-mode again. "C'mon, James. Mommy's making you and Phillipa dinner."

The child's eyes lit up. "Is she making me a dinosaur sandwich?"

"I don't know, buddy."

"Is she making me dinosaur macaroni?"

"Maybe."

"Is she making me Dinosaur –"

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we," Dom cut off, carrying him easily down the stairs.

~vOvOvOvOvOv~

Arthur reached his apartment, closing the door behind him and turning to find that the melting – dripping? – melting thing had spread to another wall. He sighed. He lay back on the couch, feeling that nagging sensation come back to bother him. It's as if he had forgotten something - something really important. But what good was that when you couldn't remember what it is that you'd forgotten? He watched as the setting sun made a line along his wall. The one that wasn't doing whatever it was that the others were doing, anyway. Feeling to alone for his liking, Arthur strode up and out the door. He strode down the dim hall, coming to the stairs and taking them two at a time, feeling as though he was falling. Reaching the first floor, he walked briskly out of the lobby, ignoring Yusef, who was staring at him from behind a low table, his cat slinking through his legs.

Arthur crossed the large room and went through the rotating door, looking for Ariadne.

He walked briskly down the sidewalk, ignoring the looks the passersby shot him – as if they had seen him before. As if this was abnormal, yet all-too-familiar behavior. _And there's the nagging thing again,"_ he thought to himself as he stuffed his hands hurriedly into his pockets. He regretted just walking out in his shirt and now, the night was getting chilly. Arthur's shoulders hunched against the wind as he kept his head up, looking for another head, one covered in soft brown curls.

After a few minutes of walking he saw her familiar form striding closer to his. Arthur ran over to her, coming to stop right in front of her, making Ariadne jump a little and quickly pull her ear buds out. "Arthur," she smiled brightly, reaching to pull him in for a hug. Arthur slightly leaned back, surprised at her unusual show of affection. He almost immediately got over the initial shock, and he happily relaxed into the hug, wrapping his arms around her short, tiny body and resting his head atop her beanied-one.

Ariadne smiled into his tie, breathed him in. Her Arthur. She backed up and Arthur let go of her a little reluctantly. Looking into his eyes, Araidne's gleamed with realization. Oh. He'd done it again. Oh.

"_Oh, shit. Again. Goddammit, Arthur!" _But she couldn't stay mad at him – he had his reasons, whatever they may be. And now she'd gone and made it all weird, because he was just staring at her. They were both just standing there on the street, starring at each other. Because Ariadne and Arthur had gotten to this point. But not Ariadne and the _Point Man_.

"You said you needed help with paradoxes, Ari."

"Oh, yeah. Proffessor Myles is kicking my butt with all the Escher, and I know you're interested in them, so I thought you would be the best person to ask for advice."

"Quite right, too," Arthur said, quickly turning and making his way back to the building. He turned to see if Ariadne was following, which she was, and there was that nagging sense again. Arthur had forgotten something and it was like a bug crawling across his scalp, right under his skin, scratching some memory away.

He pushed the feeling aside. They only had one more week before the plane from Sydney to Los Angles would be taking off with Fischer in it. And Eames had forgotten the name of his forgery. Idiot.

**A/N: Eh, I guess this could be taken as an AU fic. Or maybe all the others are AU... Think about that.**


	5. Breakable

**Ingrid Michaelson – Breakable**

Ariande regained consciousness with a sharp, soft intake of breathe. She leaned back into the soft cushions of her first-class seat and remembered.

_Inception. _

Her eyes shot open, looking for the man she'd had to leave behind, her heart swelling with the intensity of a rising wave in her chest. She saw him – Cobb – sitting across the aisle from her, an extremely strained look on his face. His eyes just skimming her relieved smile, he turned to look at the man that would be his salvation.

Ariadne jumped slightly at the sound of a nervous chuckle in her ear. Her eyes quickly skirted over her shoulder, coming to rest on another man: Arthur. He was leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees, looking at Cobb. He too was relieved to find that his friend had made it back to reality. And back to his family, as well, from what Arthur could hear of Saito's one-sided conversation. Arthur felt eyes on him and turned his gaze to the side, finding Ariadne looking at him with a small smile on her too-lovely lips.

And the memories came flooding back to him: The first layer, already being screwed up and they hadn't even started yet - what with Yusef's 'rain.' Arthur shuddered invisibly at the thought. Just a minor complication and then a major one: Fischer's mind had been trained - militarized, even. And Arthur had missed it – Saito had been _shot_ because of him. How could he have _missed _that? It could have ruined everything, could have _killed_ everyone. _He_ could have killed everyone.

He could have killed Ariadne.

Ariadne noticed his mouth pull tight and his brows crinkle together as he looked at her. "_Why is he looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?"_

Arthur was lost in his thoughts, not noticing that he might have been staring at Ariadne for too long to be polite. To be simply friendly, platonic. Because that's what they were supposed to be, but not what he wanted them to be.

Arthur was pulled back into memory, to the second level now: His level. Ariadne had not looked like herself and he didn't like the way the neutral suit seemed to choke her, how her severe hairstyle seemed to pull all the color out of her face. He _did _like the heels, though…

And they had been sitting on the couch, watching the projections stare at him. He saw his chance and his eyes glinted with mischief. He told her to kiss him, she did, and for a moment, her felt like he had stolen something from her. But then their lips touched – for the briefest of moments – and disconnected with a soft noise of regret.

Arthur pulled himself back to reality and noticed that Ariadne was now looking at their Mark, still asleep in his chair, but starting to stir. He chuckled and watched as she turned back to him, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"What's so funny, Point Man?" she asked, sounding amused after seeing his gaze.

The words were out of his mouth before he had time to calculate what exactly he was saying (Quite an unusual occurrence, mind you). "It was worth a shot."

Ariadne blushed a deep pink, remembering when he had made the statement originally.

Arthur straightened up, smoothed down his pants legs, and brought his eyes up over the seat back to meet with hers again, noticing how the blush colored her cheeks just the right way…

~vOvOvOvOvOv~

She was on the curb, trying to hail a taxi – in vain. Arthur watched cab after cab pass her – much to her obviously growing frustration – and moved steadily up behind her, rolling a heavy bag behind him and letting a PASIV swing loosely in his grip. "Do you want a ride?"

Ariadne stilled her shaking fist at the sound of his smooth voice in her ear. She could swear she felt his breathe run luxuriously across her neck. Turning around, she noticed he was standing rather close, her nose almost brushed his chin.

"Well," Arthur started, feeling the urge to wrap his arms around her swell up unexpectedly in him. He backed up half a step and thought he saw a glimmer of something in her eye for just an instant. _"Disappointment?" _

"It's just an SUV, rented to get me where I'm going. Needed room for all the equipment," He motioned beside him to a silver airline cart Ariadne hadn't noticed earlier. A rolling cart almost completely filled with black duffel bags and what looked like at least ten PASIV's. "But it looks like you're having trouble getting a cab."

"Um, yeah. Thanks, Arthur."

Ariadne smiled up at him and made to grab her messenger bag from where she had placed it on the ground, only to be beat there by Arthur, who easily picked it up and gently added it to the pile on the cart. Chivalrous to the end.

She just watched as he set both the PASIV he was carrying and the rolling bag atop the cart as well, not exactly knowing why he was doing these things until his long fingers snaked around hers, coming to be intertwined.

Arthur ignored the small gasp emitted from her, certain that he was not supposed to hear it, and grabbed the cart with the other. He couldn't stop himself from smiling, though.


	6. Peach Plum Pear

**Joanna Newsom – Peach Plum Pear**

Arthur briskly paced through the automatic doors and grabbed a basket. It was late afternoon, the sun just beginning to turn from a blinding white to a seemingly lesser yellow-orange. He still held great affection for suits and fine tailoring, even after all this time. His dark pants and vest drew the eye of many an onlooker as the slender man quickly grabbed bananas from produce and headed for the bread isle.

His shiny shoes made an absurd amount of noise against the linoleum with each step until Arthur turned the corner and saw her. His first reaction was to turn around directly, standing stock-still with his back to the Twinkie display. It really shouldn't affect him, seeing her, not anymore. Not after _years_. Arthur looked down at his hand gripping the handles of the basket tightly enough for veins to be visible. He needed that bread.

Arthur peeked his head around the corner and saw that she was still there, shoulders slumped and hand covering her mouth, staring dejectedly at brand's section as if it had offended her. He weighed the pros and cons, inhaled through his nose, and steeled himself as his shoes announced his presence.

She glanced his way, focusing back on the bread in front of her and then immediately turned back, the pale yellow scarf around her neck swishing around with the momentum of her sudden movement. He strode right up to her, a small smile gracing his secretly-strained face and one hand resting in the pocket of his pleated pants. "Ariadne," He said, his smile growing even wider upon the mentioning of her name. Her eyes grew wide and her hand never left its position hovering in front of her slightly-opened mouth.

"Arthur?" she asked, as if she couldn't quite believe it was true. She had cut her hair shorter, he noticed, and traded in her normal button-down for a tight, black long-sleeve shirt with dark jeans. Arthur's grip tightened on the handles. "Hello, Ari."

They slipped into timid conversation, both seeming to watch each other very closely. Ariadne had graduated, she was extremely successful. She had already designed an add-on to the children's science museum here in L.A. and was just hired yesterday to build a summer house for some real estate tycoon from the southeast. Arthur listened attentively, noticing how bright her eyes got when she started telling him her plans for the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned three floors in the foyer, making him remember her explain her layouts to him back in 2010. Her hands expressed exactly what she wanted, the dimensions and open floor-plan becoming so clear that Arthur could almost see it.

He had already known about her work with the children's museum; he'd gone to see it a week after the opening with James and Phillipa. "Do you know who made this, James?" he asked, holding the little boy's dirty hand, leading him to the snake exhibit. "No," James answered simply, wanting to get to the giant, man-eating boa constrictor. "Ariadne did." Arthur said, looking at how the stairs twisted towards the second level a very familiar way. "No wonder it's so beautiful," said Phillipa, catching up and grabbing Arthur's other hand. He couldn't say he disagreed.

The conversation had come to a stand-still and Arthur realized that he must seem very boring. He tried to form a coherent question in his head, something simple to get the conversation going again - anything to keep from saying what they both were thinking of.

They had tried; Arthur had tried so hard to make it work. But it didn't and she had left, gone back to Paris to finish school and him back to Extraction, loaning himself out as Cobb didn't need him anymore. He was wrong, Arthur had been wrong for Ariadne; his unintentional darkness tainting her happy-go-lucky attitude and making her somehow _less_. And Arthur couldn't have that.

And now they were here, in a grocery store, two years later and there had been no one else, Arthur realized. There would never be anyone else. Her pale hand came up and tentatively touched his cheek and Arthur closed his eyes, sighing as he leaned fully into her hand, his own coming up to cover hers.

Her eyes remained open, studying his face and the newly-added stress lines. "What's happened to you, Arthur?" He brought her hand over his mouth and kissed her palm, making Ariadne suck in a quick breath.

Someone sneezed behind them, making both jump and Arthur dropped his hand, backing up a step. She looked a little hurt, he noticed. Arthur smiled a tiny smile and turned around, saying "Excuse me," to an elderly woman testing the firmness of a loaf of bread. He didn't look back; he dropped his basket next to the Twinkie display and strode quickly out the store.


	7. Will Do

**TV On The Radio – Will Do**

Sometimes beauty is better seen from afar, Arthur tells himself. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, all that jazz. But she wasn't absent – not technically. She was absent in the role Arthur wanted her to play. The one he wanted to play with her.

He had tried everything; he even once went to Eames for advice. "_Never again_," Arthur thinks as he packs up his station. Just a week until Fischer's plane to L.A. and still she rejects him.

Arthur knows it's highly irrational to be seeking Ariadne, what with their current job. But Arthur can't help what he knows, what he _feels. _He watches as she puts a pencil to her lip, leaning back in her chair, and stares down at the lay-out in front of her. "_It's almost dark, how can she even see her paper?" _Ariadne claimed the workspace in direct line to the high windows, making it so she never has to turn on the lamp sitting on the extreme corner of the desk she was currently sitting at. Arthur smiled as she suddenly sat up - a frustrated groan leaving her lips - and furiously erased almost half the page.

They could be great; a bright burst of light that would never blink out, just continue mercilessly blinding all of those around them. But Arthur can never find out if his assumption is correct if she doesn't just _let them try._ He watched as she leaned back in her chair again, spinning slightly and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ears. Arthur watched and he wanted nothing more than to stride across the short distance separating them and take her in his arms.

He wants to be there for her, protect her. But Ariadne seems to shun all types of romance sent her way.

Arthur finishes packing up and walks over to her desk. She doesn't notice him as he reaches around and turns the switch to the lamp, making her drawing light up and her look up at him, surprised.

"Thanks, Arthur," she smile. He turns away and heads toward the door. "You're welcome."

But that's alright. He can wait as long as he has to. Someday she'll see him as he already sees her, Arthur just knows it. Because how can such potential go unseen? Arthur is ready for her anytime she feels like taking a "_leap of faith_."

"Good night, Ariadne."

"Night, Arthur."


End file.
